Jewel Flower
by Backroads
Summary: Kore was the Corn Maiden, happily wrapped up in the endless joy of life.  But the discovery of death and a mysterious cave lead her into a view of life she had never known.
1. Kore

Time never meant anything. The world was as it was, the turn of the seasons, rotating with the great expanse of the heavens. The winter fled and the spring planting came as the stars shifted restlessly only to return to their homes. Change occurred, but the familiarity remained as a steady helpmeet of change. What loss was there when planting, growth, harvest, and rest would have their place, leave, and surely return again? The seasons were endless, a beautiful and delirious rotation of all that was lovely and necessary of the earth.

My mother saw it so. From my smallest state of memory, when I could hardly toddle about on tripping toes, I wanted to be like her. Stately, graceful, prettier than any woman I had seen to the point I did not understand the celebration of Aphrodite. And she was kind. How could she not? She gave all she had to the earth, all her devotion and heart to the growth and the harvest. In winter, when the poor earth cried for a rest, she spent that rest worrying and planning and yet always faithful that all would be well.

I didn't always understand it. In my youngest girlhood there was confusion. That little blonde thing, hair the color of the sun, did not understand the scraps of plant left behind when the grain was pulled in and the feasting began. The healthy green was gone, as was the wise golden.

Resting, my mother said. Immortality was the way of things, though not all things remained the same. The soil would turn and take in those scraps and after a rest life would spring joyfully up for another round.

Life was endless. When endless was about, there was no time.

I grew up in the fields and slept in the shelter of the orchards. In my earliest memories all responded. I could coax seeds to release tiny green tendrils, flowers to bloom at my smile. When the fields turned gold I would race through them all day.

Little surprise they called me the Corn Maiden.

I rarely saw them, those mortals, and therefore I must assume their sightings of me were just as rare. My mother never tried to keep us hidden, but there are some things mortal eyes just couldn't find. But speech flew fast and had power in its own right and the stories of me reached my ears.

They were good stories, the kind any young girl would love to hear. They spoke of a girl nothing less than a goddess. Pretty, fresh, face like flowers and hair like the grain. The Corn Maiden.

Of course I did not mind the mortals telling stories of me. The bits of lore and truth that dripped down to them could be nothing but good. They were strange creatures, the mortals, so frail and weak I could not help but wonder how they would tackle the endlessness of life.

They fascinated me.

Somehow I could never get close enough to them. I never went far from my mother, and despite her love for the mortals they never seemed to further interest her. I was her love, and the earth. Perhaps it was never intentional, but the villages of the mortals were never as close as their fields. Even their praises of my mother and the prayers for her blessing rarely grabbed her attention. She just patiently and peacefully did what she loved.

There was a certain cave set in the hills above a large field of wheat. Our wanderings over the centuries brought us there on several occasions. I held no particular fondness for it, only thought it was interesting because of the smoky color of the stone and the wildflowers that grew near it. It was a nice place to go to when we were in the area. That was all.

One day that changed. One day that cave became one of the most important things to me.

My mother was tending the field, humming a sweet song as she gave the wheat all she could. The sun was strong, the sky clear, and my feet refused to be still and my mind refused to focus. I asked permission to go to the cave and gather flowers. Permission was granted.

A man lay near the cave, his form half-hidden in the grass. I almost didn't notice him.

I don't recall much of how he looked, at least not details. He seemed comfortable, a tired man seeking a sunny place for a nap. His face was peaceful, as if lost in the finest of dreams.

Much of the world was visible and practical. Plants grew among the stones, both were scattered over the rich brown earth. Mountains rose in the distance and in the horizon the sea spread. So much could be touched. But then there was the wind, the heat of the sun, things I had tried so often to scoop up and failing every time. The breath of life, the energetic wind that everything seemed to possess, was also unseen.

The mortal man did not have that.

I could make no sense of him.

All things were endless. I knew this like I knew myself. Things may change and things may rest, but they were without a doubt endless. It was truth.

Somehow, the frail mortal lying on the ground near the cave, did not fit so neatly into this truth.


	2. The Cave

I spoke to my mother about what I had seen, the still mortal in the grass. Several times, curious repetition seeking an answer. The first time moments after the sight, the next few times over the following months and years. I do not think I obsessed or demanded, but the image of the man-no-longer was burned into my thoughts and try as I might I could not rub it out.

"There is no difference, Kore," was her first reply. "Life is life and does not end."

"I know that," was my firm response. "But what becomes of him? His body? There's too much to break into the earth."

She just nodded in her wise way. "It will happen. Time will take care of it. His family or friends will find him, take him with them, do all that is required. Don't fret."

I tried not to. I tried to push it from my mind. I followed my mother over the earth and learned all that she taught me. I learned of youth found in the cycle of life, the rise of the crops, the wearing down before they rested. I called things to grow and made the flowers blossom and twist skywards. I played in the fields and every so often was subject of the glimpse of a delighted mortal.

Of course I was happy. There was no doubt about it. The world was beautiful and all the gods did what they did best. The sun was like fire, the storms full of maddening glory. Life was everywhere and called to me and I was only too happy to join it.

But I never forgot what I had seen. Try as I might I could not make sense of it and try as I might I could not forget it.

As the years passed my mother gave me more answers to my questions. She seemed to know much. She did not exactly keep anything from me; rather; she did not seem to care one way or the other about what happened to the mortal. To her life was life and there was no difference, just how things appeared.

The answers failed to teach me what I did not already know.

Not all parts of life could be seen.

Not all changes could be witnessed.

Sometimes the cycle would split in its purposes, one thing going one way and another thing going another path. Just another change. No real difference.

Eventually I stopped asking. I still did not understand, and perhaps I was not meant to. I was nowhere near as wise as my mother, and wisdom was necessary for understanding. I never forgot. I suppose I just waited.

One day in the warmth of spring I found my love. It was nothing I had not seen hundreds of times before but the miracle was no less spectacular. This spring the budding flowers called louder than they ever had before and I listened more intently than I ever had before.

My mother laughed at me as I threw all my energy into the flowers. "You aren't as tame as me," she said. "The wanderings of your father Zeus are in you, my silly darling."

I laughed with her. I loved my mother's fields with their crops, but I clearly could stake my claim on the flowers with no fight from her.

We decided it was best this way.

I had no favorite. Each flower was a celebration of itself, a careful decision to spring gloriously into the world. I imagined each year they changed, spending each rest deciding what to be upon awakening. I loved them all, the secret excitement of the sprouts, the promise of the buds, the colors from demure to wild. I liked that I could see them.

And then, one night in the collapse of summer, I found something else.

I was asleep, curled up beneath a bramble of late roses. I had been in a dream, a pleasant one of forgettable detail. Somewhere far beyond my dream came a sound. Not a whisper, hardly even a voice. It was more like water, a stream over rocks or rain pounding onto stiff grass. It entered into my dream and lured me awake.

I saw nothing, just the stars and the shadows. But the sound remained, clearer.

Then it moved.

The night was perfect. Clear, gentle, full of the last chords of summer sounds. For a moment I could not stir. But the moment passed and my feet pressed into the earth as I stood.

The sound moved further, and I followed.

Night had never seen such a chase. A girl racing across the countryside , footsteps silent in the grass as night flowers erupted after each step. I scarcely noticed. Instead I wondered why I followed the sound. Was I so bored? Was it such an opportunity to fly further from my mother as I ever had?

As I ran the landscape changed. So much was familiar to me, but the view struck more than mere memory.

The cave. Then man.

That was where I stopped. The cave. I paid no attention to the wildflowers about it, only noticed that the sound had stopped there, like a bird after a long flight.

I too sat down in the grass to rest.

Somewhere, deep in the earth, the water had swelled full. A spring rose just beneath the cave, still and bright in the moonlight. The water was warm, perhaps even hot, and tiny wafts of steam rose from it. They danced in the darkness, breaths of barely more than smoke. As they danced, they revealed more than themselves.

Shapes.

Somewhere between the tangible and the invisible existed these shapes. They were but glimpses from the corner of the eye, something not quite seen in the shadows, distant reflections in a pool.

People.

They did not appear to see me, though I did nothing but stare. Their wisps of mouths opened to create the sound I had heard. They watched the cave, as if they wanted to step inside of it but didn't dare for whatever reason.

"Hello," I said gently. "My name is Kore."

The shapes stirred, and one looked in my direction. Our eyes did not quite lock, but the pale mouth seemed to smile. It continued that smile as it danced about the cave's mouth.

What was in there? Why had I in so many centuries never bothered to enter it, content only with the flowers about it?

Why not now? The thought came to me like thunder striking. Why not, indeed?

The cave was cool, the kind not of wind but peaceful and would put you to sleep. It chilled pleasantly on my skin, that cave air, and my bare feet tingled at the touch of the stone.

Nothing followed me.

I had thought the cave just a curve in the rock, but as light failed my eyes and there seemed to be nothing to stop my careful hand I changed my mind on the cave. Gradually the floor gave way to a slope, the gentlest slope I could imagine. But it was long, and little my little it deepened into the earth.

I could see nothing, could only hear the rushing of an unseen river.

My foot snagged. Not on anything particular, just the trip that happened occasionally even to one such as I. My strongest thought was a tear in my skirt and I had a list of curses prepared even as I fell. I struck the ground as I had expected.

A hand took mine and pulled me to my feet.

I screamed.

Whomever had touched me did not respond. I turned and ran up the path, not stopping until I collapsed, shaking, into the grass outside the cave.

Fresh air. Scent of flowers. Moonlight. I breathed it all in.

The sounds and the shapes were gone.


	3. A Decision

One would think that such an experience would keep me far, far from that cave. I was merely a girl, great compared to mortals, but still only a girl who had been brought up to fields and flowers. I knew as much about myself and delighted in it. Sunlight itself ran through my veins. My heart kept time with the sounds of the earth. Did not flowers spring from my footsteps? I was the cherished daughter of Demeter, the one raised to assist her. I loved all that about myself. Do not mistake me: I loved the meadows. I loved the flowers. I loved everything that grew in the scented hair.

But I returned to the cave.

I lost count of how often I traveled there. At first, I only went in the depths of the night, when I was close enough to dare. But as the years passed my reasons became less specific. I would run across the entire earth to visit the cave in broad delight, if the notion struck me. Sometimes I heard the stranger whispers of the stranger misty figures, sometimes I did not. I felt they no longer needed to visit me. They had brought me back to the cave and I understood. What I understood, I did not know, but I knew I was to be there.

Funny how I had taken to thinking in years.

I never walked very far down, not as far as I had gone that night. I would bring torches with me, and the light would rest against the cold cavern walls with all the warmth of a hearth. Even so I shivered. I would stare down the path, thinking and remembering and wondering. Sometimes the figures were there. Sometimes they weren't. I would remain there for hours, unaware of all that had passed until I would come back out and see the day or night in a different spot than before.

Funny how I had taken to thinking in hours.

I paid more attention to the mortals, when I had opportunity to see them. I felt no reason to enter their villages, but if I passed one I would stop and watch. I spied on them in their fields, in their orchards. They fascinated me as I thought nothing could. Like all living things they changed. The freshness of summer would relax into the wrinkles of autumn and winter. Then they were gone in the next state of change.

In early autumn I observed some leaves that had fallen. The soft green was no more and instead they glowed with rich red, though somewhat rusted with their fall. I picked one up and watched it crumble in my hand.

In that moment I understood.

I found my mother tending the grapes. I offered her no greeting, just the question on my mind. "Where do the mortals go when they die?"

She rose to her full height and stared at me, her lovely eyes surprised and curious. In our world of duties death was not a proper word. It was a misnomer, unaware of Truth. To speak it was foolish.

"When they are not as they were," I clarified. "The mortals die like everything else. Their bodies go into the earth. But what of the rest of them?"

She continued to watch me. There was no anger in her eyes, no sadness, just that same surprise and curiosity. I stared back at her, watching the constant shifting of light in her eyes, the light that was brown and reflected the crops.

"I don't know," she finally said.

The surprise fell to me. This was my mother, matron of the earth. She knew all.

"I know where they go," she continued. She let go of the grapes and sat down in their shadow, her legs crossed. She seemed so wise when she sat. "But of the details, the truth of those spirits, I don't know. It's just, of course. It's everything as it should be."

"Where do they go?"

"To Hades' realm." She spoke the name with subtle disgust. "It is his task to take care of them. Their bodies feed the ground, the soul goes on. You know nothing dies, Kore. Not truly."

I nodded. Of course I knew that. Everything around me spoke such truth. "Where is Hades' realm?" It was a name I had heard, but only rarely. Hades was not life. He had no place on the earth.

"Hidden. Inside the earth, deep down. He was the light of the earth's fire, not the sun."

"Caves." I said it more to myself than to her, but my mother heard me nonetheless.

The surprise was gone. Her face slipped into a sad smile. "I sensed as much."

She knew.

A butterfly lighted on my shoulder. A painted lady, gaudy and proud. I loved it. It was like the kiss of the breeze, almost nothing. Much like the figures I had seen. Only the butterfly knew exactly where it was. The others were…

Lost.

I sighed and met my mother's eyes again. "That part of them doesn't belong here, does it?"

She shook her head, sad smile still remaining. "No, it does not. Which is why Hades takes them."

"I've seen them."

She nodded, smile growing sadder. When would it become a frown? "I've seen them in your eyes."

"I know where one of the caves is."

She jumped back to her feet, suddenly terrible. "I forbid it, Kore!"

Funny how she guessed my intentions. "But Mother, I—"

"You belong here. On the earth. Not in it."

"I wouldn't go in, Mother. I would just show them. I've been inside, along the path, I know that if they weren't further they would reach it."

She turned from me, shoulders shaking as she cried. There was no pride of a battle won. It was as if she had agreed.

The plan was nothing spectacular in my mind. A game, really. I would go further along the path. I would bring a torch. Certainly once past me they could find their own ways to Hades' realm. And when my task was done, I would return. "Mother, please."

The crying increased, and she began to walk.

I followed.

She did not stop walking, nor did she stop crying until night fell and we made our beds in the hay of a farmer's field.

I slept easily, knowing I had won.

When I awoke, my mother's eyes were still red, but the tears had stopped. She stood above me, waiting for me to arise. In her hands she held two things, a torch and a basket of pomegranates.

"You'll need these, Kore. The dead love this fruit. It will draw them. The light will guide them."

I took them. They felt strange in my hands, like they would burn me. But at the same time my heart loved them. This was right.

"Thank-you, Mother," I said. Thanks was enough.

She smiled, no longer sad. "I long suspected you were a little different from me. Return soon."

She kissed me on my forehead, then walked away. I watched her leave.

Then I walked to the cave.


	4. Charon

They followed.

The voices and wisps I knew to now to be the remnants of those who had died followed me. I slowly made my way down through the cave's tunnels, my hand clenching tight the torch and the scent of the rich pomegranates wafting around me like an invisible light of its own. Though I turned back only a few times the action was unnecessary. I could hear their voices, so insensible, yet filled with excitement . I was not sure how just how fast these spirits could move, so my steps were careful and I did not allow much speed. What if I were to lose one and wreck my entire plan in helping them?

The torchlight bounced off the walls like a giant trapped firefly, and I could now see how properly smooth the floor was. The walls were narrow, but the roof was surprisingly high, though reaching up I could touch it and feel the smooth and cool stone.

I felt giddy. After all, what could possibly happen to me? As the ground sloped deeper, I moved faster, a little more confident that all saw me. The light, the fruit, me… what more did they need? Perhaps this was somewhat of what it felt like to be Mother, powerful and needed and praised. No, it was not at all what I had expected. I was the Corn Maiden, a child of the crops and fields and meadows. I laughed to think how silly was the idea of the Corn Maiden frolicking in the deep caverns of the earth where I probably did not belong.

A few times my basket of pomegranates moved without my touching it and from the corner of my eye I could see the smoky lines of the culprit, desperate for fruit. I have to admit I felt a little sorry for these beings, but another part of me worried that if I gave in, they would never get where they belonged.

How long I walked remained a mystery to me, for I soon lost myself in the traveling and the excitement of what I was doing. But at last I realized just how sore I was and how much my feet ached.

At this time the path ended. I rounded a corner, and there it was. A river, rushing through the craggy rocks of the underground, its water glowing eerily blue, white foam erupting over rocks. The river was not particular wide; rather, it was that rushing speed of water that created the problem. Tied up tightly enough so that it wouldn't get ripped away with the current was a small boat, sturdy and of smooth black wood. Next to it stood the strangest man I had ever seen. His dress was simple, dark, and unobtrusive enough—but his eyes were perfect white. I could not even be sure if they stared at me.

I stopped and set my basket rather nervously on the ground. The white forms of the spirits poured around it.

"Greetings," the man asked, his voice nearly questioning.

"Greetings," I returned, unsure of the man's behavior. He seemed bewildered by my presence, yet not in the awe I had seen from mortals. I took him to be one of the gods… and even then was unsure of how I had been treated.

His vacant white eyes seemed to move to the beings surrounding the pomegranates.

"The food of the dead, " he said reverently. He moved a step towards me. "Why do you bring it?"

I almost demanded who he was to ask a question of me, but I felt no anger towards him. "They couldn't find this place."

"It can be hard to find, I will be the first to admit."

I looked at the river. It seemed cold, like I could turn to ice if I touched it. A wonder it was that the boat was not frozen. "Why is this place so hidden?"

The man shrugged, seeming satisfied with my presence. "Why is anything the way it is? So few want death. Would it do for Styx to flow in the open, under the sun? I've seen the ways of man. They would snub the river, think themselves above death, and avoid it. Only after have they left their mortal bodies do they seek something of substance, so unaware of what the world here can provide. They seemed happy enough to follow you, my dear."

His explanation made no sense to me. The world was dark here, and for the first time I wanted nothing more than to return to the surface the warmth of the sun. "I'm not sure why they would want to come here." Though the moment the question was out of my mouth I theorized an understanding. I was in no position to explain the cycles and sides of life. If this place were necessary, so be it.

"I rarely see your kind here, miss," he continued. I had decided I liked him. He was kind, unassuming, posed no threat. "Gods of the air and of the earth… none of them bother with the world of Hades. But I'm afraid I don't recognize you. May I ask your name?"

I watched him for several long moments before I summoned the presence of mind to respond. "My name is Kore, daughter of Demeter."

He smiled with surprisingly warmth that did not seem to belong in this place. "The goddess of the corn."

So he had heard of me. "Yes."

His smile broadened and he dipped into a sweeping bow. "I am Charon. I ferry the souls across the Styx."

I looked again at the river. "Such a task, sir."

Charon kicked the boat. The rap echoed throughout the cave. "I enjoy it. They're grateful, most of them. And they pay well, most of them." He closed his hand tight. When he reopened it, it was filled with pieces of gold. "I still don't understand what a girl like you is doing here."

I waved my hand toward the tunnel from which I had just emerged. "They're up there, sir. You might ferry the ones who make it, but so many are up there."

He nodded. "Why you?"

I blinked at him.

"Why you?" he repeated. "What made you think you had the right to take such a task upon yourself?"

A small fire inside of me flared up. "It wasn't being done!"

He laughed, and I realized with shame he had meant nothing so accusing. "Many thanks to you, then, my dear Kore. Amusing for one so young. The growing of the corn, the health of soil isn't enough for you. I'm impressed."

I smiled proudly, flattered.

He laughed, but it died quickly, slipping into something more somber. "I warn you, though, my dear. You best be seeking permission from Lord Hades."


	5. Hades

Hades was a name that meant little to me. As I had said before, it was a name I had heard but little. I suppose, however, that if I were to throw myself so deeply into the world of death I could not be surprised to hear the name of Hades, even to meet him.

Charon's expression did not change. He gestured toward the river and the boat. "I can take there if you like."

The water was unlike any water of the earth's surface. Somehow I doubted it was true water, as water should be. In sudden realization I learned I did not want to go anywhere near the stream and it was all I could do to stop myself from running up through the cave's tunnels and back into the sunlight. "I only wanted to help."

"And help you have," Charon said gently. "I'm sure many are grateful to you. Lord Hades will only want to pay his respects, keep his kingdom in check."

I stared across the stream. So little of it made sense. "What happens to them there? The spirits?"

He smiled a secret smile. "It is for them to discover. One of the greatest mysteries of nature. The pomegranate trees grow there in groves, though, if that makes you feel better."

"I've brought them here," I said. "I'll continue to do so. Would Lord Hades truly be so upset?"

"A kingdom must be of order."

"An instruction from a god to a goddess." I turned to leave. My work for the day was done.

"Will you continue this behavior?"

I stopped, and nodded, though I did not turn back around to face him.

"Then come."

He was right. What was worse, I knew perfectly well that he was right. Goddess that I was I could not disrespect others. I nodded and turned.

Charon was kind and gracious in assisting me into the boat. It did not so much as rock beneath our combined weight, and the spirits floated around us in misty delight. I brought my basket of pomegranates. The rushing stream was louder than I had noticed, now that I was so close to it. Part of me wished to dip my hand into it, expecting it to be icy cold, but I did not dare.

"The waters of the Styx won't harm you, my dear," Charon said.

I still did not touch it.

"It's water. Nothing more."

"Nothing less," I said. "Water is a source of life."

He nodded in agreement.

"What's across?" I could see nothing among the shadows.

"The realm of Hades. Did you expect more than that?"

"No." I wondered if I had made a mistake. Mother had never traveled here, had she not? What business did I have? I was a girl of the sunlight. "You'll take me back across, will you?"

Charon did not respond.

I repeated my request. "You'll return me after we've spoken to Hades, of course!"

"Lord Hades will be the judge of that."

I stood up, considering throwing myself from the boat and plunging myself into the Styx.

"Sit down, we are nearly there."

The path might as well have been miles away. Terrified, I sat down, just in time for the boat to bump against the far shore.

We were there.

I stood up once more. My legs scarcely seemed to work. Charon took my hand to help me to shore, but I did not have the presence of mind to thank him.

There was nothing before me. Absolutely nothing. A vision of blackness stretching into nothing.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"The realm of Lord Hades," was Charon's reply.

I could have guessed as much, but it was nothing like I had imagined. How much time, though, had I spent wondering of this world? Darkness? Was this what happened in the winter when everything else died? Mere darkness?

Did my mother know of this?

"Take me to the palace," I said. "Please."

Charon shook his head. "I go no further." He picked up my torch and basket and handed them to me. "You'll need these, I'm sure."

I took them mindlessly. "I don't know what to do."

"What did you plan to do when you came down here? That is the question to ask yourself. You arrived with plenty of confidence."

The torch was hot beneath my hand. What I meant to do. Why I was here. The spirits swarmed around me, chattering in their impossible language. I closed my eyes for a brief moment. It was no darker.

"Come," I said, reopening my eyes. "Let's go."

Then I set off into the darkness, the spirits following me.

The light from my torch revealed nothing. At least the ground beneath my feet was trustworthy.

Then, at last, the torchlight swept over a shape. Tall and straight pillars, flashes of silver stone.

I quickened my pace.

There was a gate, hung smartly between the pillars. It had no lock. I pushed one hand against it. The gate was as cold as I imagined the Styx. With one swift push, I swung it open.

Then I stopped, my mouth open in awe.

I suppose the only I could call it was a garden, though the plants were few and the rocks were many. But the arrangement was stunning. All was low, the colors mute. Moss sprawled over stones, happy enough in the faint light. A few trees—pomegranates, I imagined—grew here and there, branches hanging heavily toward the ground. Then, like stars, deeply colored stones glinted among everything.

"You like it," said a voice behind me.

The torch fell from my hand, sputtering out as it struck the ground. It was then I realized I no longer needed it. There was light enough here. I turned around.

He towered like a dark poplar above me. His tunic was simple, a deep bloody red. His hair was so pale I dared to call it white. His face was shapely and handsome, bearing the familiar features of those of Olympus—at least those I had seen. It was his eyes, however, that caught me. They were green. A common enough color, I supposed, but somehow they did not fit in this place.

I remember my manners in time and bowed. "I did not expect such beauty beneath the earth."

He made an unintelligible sound in his throat. "They never do. Never trust what lies beneath them." The green eyes bore into me. "And you are?"

For a moment it seemed I had forgotten my name. Then it sputtered into being. "Kore. Daughter of Demeter."

His gaze softened. "Ah, Demeter. I have not met you. Why are you here?"

I looked about for the spirits. They were gone. "I…" I had no idea how to explain my story. Nothing better than to just say it, I supposed. "Spirits were there. On the earth. I led them down here."

"Why?"

"They… they were lost."

I looked up at him, awaiting a reaction for I could not guess what he would do. He merely nodded, then walked past me. "That was good of you. Thank-you."

I followed him. The rock garden seemed to grow as we moved. "Charon advised me to speak to you about it."

"Speak about what?" Hades said. "You did what was wise. You were helpful. Indeed, I'm surprised a girl such as you would bother with the realms of the other gods, but the gesture does not go without appreciation. I always wondered if you completely understood the cycle that you and your mother devote yourselves so much to. I believe this will add much to your knowledge."

"I'm going to keep doing this."

That made him stop. "You're going to continue?"

I nodded. "That's what I said."

His mouth moved slightly. It was not quite a frown, but I could think of no other word.

"That," he said, "Is something we must discuss."


	6. The Meadows

Hades walked away from the garden with not another word, just a silent and slow march I assumed meant I was to follow him. I did, trailing at a distance like a confused duckling behind its mother.

Beyond the garden there did not seem to be much of anything. My eyes should have adjusted by then to the darkness, but all I could follow was the faint form of Hades. My feet were bare, and I felt for the first time the smooth stones, like river-bottom gravel. There had to be a path. I glanced back once at the garden, all peacefully jeweled in the darkness, and felt a stab of fear in my heart.

But what did I have to be afraid of? A lack of light, of air, of sunshine? As great was my mother's domain was it was not the only one to exist and serve its purpose. I straightened myself and moved quickly, though Hades' strides seemed to stretch every moment.

"Where do the dead go?" I heard myself asking.

For a long time Hades said nothing. Though I felt I deserved a reply, perhaps he did not hear me? If that were the case, would there be anything purpose in asking again? I did not feel that I should have to repeat myself.

The result of such an action was quite disparaging.

But then he replied. "You speak of the dead like those you brought down here?"

"Yes."

"Around. My home rests above what is really their world. Elysium is off in the far distance. They all yearn for it, few make it. Perhaps you would like to visit there? It's a pretty place. The Asphodel Meadows are closer, I'm afraid. Most wind up there." He said nothing else.

I was curious for more. "Can you tell me more about them?"

His pace seemed to slow, for his voice sounded closer. "I suppose. Elysium is what I imagine to interest such as you. The reward of the good, I hear the mortals sometimes say. Possibly a return to life. The Meadows aren't nearly so grand. The end for many of them."

"I don't understand."

He paused. "Understand what?"

"You tell me in the meadows the dead just…. Wait?"

"They don't wait. They seem to find things to occupy their time."

"What happens to them?"

"Nothing."

My turn to pause. "Nothing?"

Hades gave a wearied sigh. "What did you expect? They die, their souls end up here."

I could make no sense of it. "But everything comes back!"

"Some do. Those of Elysium might."

I barely heard him. "The flowers and trees renew each spring. The harvest falls to seed and springs up forth the following year. Even the rock changes. Nothing truly dies."

"Those bodies of theirs return to the earth. Is that not good enough for you?"

I sputtered meaningless words as I tried to think. "It makes no sense! Their souls just exist here? Doing nothing?"

"Their fate, not mine nor yours."

I tried to think of a response. I desperately wanted one, a reply that would get Hades explaining the bizarre meaning of all of this. I had led souls down here… for this?

"Can you really be so upset for those who travel to Elysium?"

"Yes, but the rest of them?" I had a desire to sit down and cry. What had I done? What in heaven and earth had I done?  
>"You sound upset, Kore," Hades said, not sounding as if the matter particularly interested him.<p>

Of course I was upset, the fool! But I kept following him. "On earth those spirits did nothing. I sought to find change for them, a purpose. So I brought them here."

"Did I not already thank you for that?"

"You told me in the meadows nothing becomes of them."

Another sigh. "You're tired, Kore. I'll see to it you have some nourishment, a place to sit."

I wanted nothing. "Where are we?"

"At my home."

I saw nothing, just darkness.

Then something—branches, by the sound of things—were pushed aside and I was nearly blinded by light. Yet there was so sun, nothing overhanging at all, just thousands upon thousands of glimmering gems in perfect imitation of the night sky. They covered everything—the ground, the ceiling, every facet of the place. We were in yet another garden, so similar to the other but far more extensive. Nestled here and there among it were low buildings, simple and yet exquisite in their creation. There was no single plane on which everything rested, but a broken terrace of sorts as if the rocks and cliffs refused to match one another. A path, studded with red stones, did its best to connect everything.

We entered one building. It contained a dining room. An oval table, as glittering as anything else, sat in the center, chairs surrounding it. Fruit and pitchers of drink lined a wall. Suddenly exhausted, I sunk into a chair, Hades into another.

I stared at him.

"I'm afraid I don't understand you, Kore," he said simply, his green eyes full of mild curiosity. "Such a strange little girl, making her way down as far as Hades with naught but a basket of pomegranates and a torch. A heroine to the spirits, lending herself immediately to the tales."

I had no idea what to say. I remained as mannerly as I could.

Hades continued, seeming to have no expectation for me to saying. "Then you become upset at what you had done. Your reasoning escapes me. Explain again."

The sudden command caught me off-guard, and my mouth fell open. How could he, this citizen of the dead, possibly comprehend the ways of the earth? "Life is change," I quoted. "I see it all the time, all my years. Nothing stays the same. To change is to live."

He stood up from his chair and went to a basket of fruit. "A strange notion. I think I see what you mean. And what do you complain of here?" He took several fruits and brought them back to the table.

Was it not obvious to this fool? "Nothing changes. You just told me as much yourself not terribly long ago! The Meadows you spoke of. You send people there to do nothing!"

"I don't send them there." He took a bite of fruit. A pear. How could fruit possibly grow in such as a place as this?

I narrowed my eyes.

"I merely guard the realm. I see that order is kept. It is not I who determine their lives and their fates. I did not cause them, I made no choices for them and I see no reason to begin now." He looked at me expectantly, waiting for my response.

"So you do nothing for them?"

He shook his head and bit again into the pear. "Are you hungry? Food might do you some good after your journey here."

I was. I looked at the fruit on the table and selected a pomegranate. After carrying so many it did seem delicious. The taste was phenomenal, sweet and ripe. "Thank-you."

"You're welcome. Now to discuss what else you have told me. You say you intend on continuing this work? Has your mind changed?"

"I… I'm not sure."

He nodded, not surprised. "What has affected this?"

"Do I really need to say?"

He smiled. The smile suited his face. "Praise for a child of Olympus who uses words so carefully as you. May I say a few things?"

I nodded.

"I will not claim to know your mother's realm as well as Demeter does. It is her place and I will not argue that. I respect her for it and for the work she does. But she does not deal with the things that have minds, that think for themselves. This has what has been passed onto you. You take charge. You force the earth to give up fruit and flower, you see to it that all is nurtured. I don't force such power. I watch the realms here, but I rarely intercede. The people that find their ways here continue to find their own ways. I force no one in the Meadows, I sneak no one to Elylsium, I condemn no one to Tartarus."

I nodded again. I supposed it all made sense in its strange way.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Kore?"

"No, you've been very hospitable, very helpful."

He finished off his pear, and I took another bite of pomegranate. "So… will you continue your little trips down here, spirits in tow?"

"I don't think I will." I hated myself for the response, but it seemed to the truth.

His face fell. "All right, then. If you are sure."

It was almost as if he wanted me to.

I stood up. "Once more, Hades, I thank you. I shall be leaving for the surface now."

Without another word, I left the little building.

It was almost heartbreaking to leave the garden, but soon I found the expanse of trees where we had entered. I pushed through them and began my walk.

I could see nothing.

I felt the path beneath my feet and kept my bearings straight.

I would not get lost.

I could not get lost.

I could not possibly be lost.


	7. Lost

How much time ran past me as I wandered about in the dark? It was impossible to tell . It might have been days, it might have been nothing more than a panicky fifteen minutes. Yet somehow I am inclined to think the latter. It was far more than just being lost. I did not seem to be anywhere. I was in darkness as darkness was at the beginning of the world, an oppressive force that existed for its own sake. Or was that my imagination running away with itself? For I was not used to darkness. The dark of night meant moon and stars and when the rain clouds covered those it meant the lilt of a pre-storm wind and the barest of forced moonlight pushing through. Even the darkest night meant earth and air and plants beneath me, sounds of nature merely adjusting to a darker night. Here, there was nothing.

My bare feet felt stone beneath them and I crouched down once or twice to feel with my fingers, desperate to know for sure. Yes, it was stone, the stone of caves deep beneath the earth. But was it? Or another trick of the mind? Was I even awake? Yes, the realization of a dream would make the most sense here. Perhaps I was still in Hade's rooms, taking a rest before returning to the surface. Or perhaps even I had never journeyed down there in the first place and was instead slumbering in a patch of soft grass.

There was no use in telling myself lies and soon the panic began to engulf me. I wanted to go home. I hated the dark and I wanted to go home to my mother and never return to this strange world again.

"Mother!" My voice didn't even echo. It was as if I were nowhere.

"Kore." The voice was so soft that at first thought I assumed it to be my own imagination… after all, my mind was playing plenty of tricks on me to the point I wasn't sure what was real.

It repeated itself. "Kore."

"Who's there?" I whispered.

"Kore the Corn Maiden." I did not recognize the voice. It was not Hades, it was not my mother, it was not Charon. It did not seem to belong to a body, just a voice that had always existed here in the darkness.

"That is I," I replied, barely louder than the voice.

"You are needed here," it said in pure softeness.

I put a hand to my breast. My heart pounded like a hummingbird's wings. I felt sick and weak. "I don't belong here."

"Not yet." The voice was so soothing.

"I don't know where I am. I'm lost."

"Call for Hades."

"No." I shook my head, knowing full well it could not be seen. "My business with Hades is done. I want to go back to the top of the earth."

"You cannot leave yet."

"Please."

"You are needed here," it repeated. "You will serve a great purpose here."

"Purpose?" In spite of my predicament I laughed. "What purpose could there be? I am an earth goddess. I am the Corn Maiden."

"I never said you were not. But you are other things as well."

I resumed walking, suddenly desperate to escape the voice. I hated everything about that voice. I just wanted to go home.

"Charon!" I called loudly. "Charon, where is your boat?"

No answer. No echo.

No sound but that voice.

"You formed a connection with this place," the voice said. "You are no longer just a visitor."

"I only brought a few spirits down—"

"You ate the food of the dead, the very fruit that grows and thrives beneath the earth."

Horrified, I brought my fingers to my lips. The juice of the pomegranate still remained. But I shook my head. Food was food and plenty grew in my mother's realm. "It matters not."

"By eating it you claimed this world."

"I did no such thing. I only wanted to help."

"So continue to help," the voice suggested. "Let them know this place exists for them."

No. It wasn't my realm. It wasn't my world. It was not my purpose.

"Please," the voice begged. Finally, true emotion in it.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Only a voice."

"Is that all?"

"All for now."

I felt tears at my eyes and I tried to blink them away. "I want to go home."

"Not yet. Please help first."

I had no choice.

"Hades," I whispered the name.

The red lights of the garden appeared.


	8. Tartarus

The garden was empty. No, that was a terrible description for nothing could be further from the truth and I knew that more than anyone could possibly know. For what had I seen all my life but growing things? Nature hardly needed an animal presence to fill itself, to rise stubborn and beautiful for no other pleasure than its own. This garden, so different from all others that I had ever seen, was no different. Its darkness was its own, its trees accustomed and proud to that darkness. Only the jewels differed from a hidden corner of the world in the night. They, I did not understand. They were beautiful, but beautiful in a concept of which I had no understanding.

What emptiness I initially thought was due to the lack of Hades. Though I had called his name I was somewhat glad he was not there, nor any sign he existed. The low dwellings were gone, somehow melted away into the earth—or, more reasonably, were just somewhere else and I simply did not having my bearings correct. Another part of me was offended that the host of this world would not even come to check on a lost girl.

I took a seat on a boulder, one covered in a pale red moss. I let my fingers rub it and vaguely thought of asking it to grow. Even as the scrap of thought flashed through my mind I felt the soft moss cling thicker to my hand. I pulled away, no longer interested.

I so wanted to go home.

Oh, I recognized this place for what it had. The trees would like me and I suppose I liked them for the mere fact of what they were. Yet I worried for them for how could a tree thrive without the warmth of the sun? Without the air and the cool water and the light and the animals? What was their light? The harsh version glinting from the jewels?

Rocks, they were. Pretty rocks and nothing more. Rocks pressed through time and the way of life until they glimmered and gleamed as if they had nothing else to give as beauty. I missed the rocks that would tumble up when the plow went over him, dirty and healthy and warm with fresh earth. Rocks weren't meant to have color! That was the role of the flowers.

Yet I touched one, glinting up at me from the ground. It was cold and bright and felt like… I wished to say nothing. But that would have been a lie. Something existed in the jewel and it was something I did not understand. Or did understand, but did not believe could exist in such a thing. I jerked my hand away.

I was not so awed with the ceiling of a place. Starlight. Hah. This was no starlight, just those silly rocks crammed skimble-skamble into the cold underearth. The imitation was not as perfect as I had first imagined.

Only the trees were worth sympathy, and I almost pitied they were not above. And yet… yet they seemed happy here. Comfortable. At peace.

Could peace exist in such a place? I thought of the descriptions Hades had given me. Elysium, apparently a place of beauty as to rival even the world above. The place I had imagined to exist for a proper death. The change of life, the burst of freedom that existed in changes. I wondered what the spirits there did. What was their happiness?

And what of the souls in the Meadows? I suddenly wished to see them, understand why they would bring themselves to such a dismal place.

And Tartarus. Hades had mentioned a place called Tartarus, a place of condemnation. I shivered as the word took my mind like a chill winter breeze.

Had I unwittingly brought souls to doom themselves to Tartarus?

I stood up. The path of red stones seemed to place itself just beneath my feet. I walked. It was like my attempt to journey home, only light, what light the world could offer, stayed with me and the path stayed under my feet. I could best compare the world to the darkness of a night wood when the moon is new and clouds cover the sky. I could smell the earth, cold and without sun but… fresh. There was no denying it was earth. And the plants! Mainly trees, though my feet tingled at the suggestion of mosses. The trees stayed demurely from me, only their furthest-reaching branches occasionally touching my skin.

There was no sound. That frightened me.

When I finally did hear sound it might as well have been the most comforting noise in the world. It was soft, grinding, the sound of objects touching.

In conjunction with the arrival of sound, the air became cold.

I was somewhere else.

When I saw him, I at first did not connect the sound to him. I had glimpsed mortals laboring for their livelihood but the scene before me made no sense. Among the rocky terrain was a hill, unsteady and rough and steep. A man trudged up it, a misshapen boulder being pushed before him. The man was emaciated and dirty, the greyest of cloth at his loins.

He did not notice me and I said nothing. Just watched him.

With grunts and sweating he pushed the boulder. It scratched horribly at the earth. At closer observation I could see his hands bled under the task.

Then, as he neared the crest of the hill, he stumbled. It was a small stumble, but it was enough that his grasp on the boulder weakened. He barely had the time to jump from its path as it bounced back down the hill.

I laughed. Poor man, but I could not understand why he had pushed it up in the first place.

He glowered at me as he limped down the hill. His feet were blistered.

Immediately I felt guilt for my laugh. The very aura of the place told me I was wrong for laughing.

"You laugh, maiden," he said with a rough and scratchy voice. "Would you laugh if it were your place?"

I was not sure I understood the question. "But it is not my place. Why do you push it?"

He positioned himself behind the boulder, grunted for breath, and began to push the boulder back up the hill. "Punishment, maiden. Unjustly given."

It did not match with what Hades had told me. Had the god lied to me? "Hades said…"

"Hades lies." He grunted again and wiped the sweat from his brow. He seemed well-acquainted with the journey up the hill. "I never deserved this. The gods spoke of trickery when they all would never dare swear on Olympus it was so."

I did not know what to say. Had he not condemned himself to this place?

A fingernail broke against the rock. "And so it is my fate to continuously push a boulder up the hill till the end of this eternity, a path never appearing, the ground never growing smooth. You are a pretty girl."

"A goddess," I said immediately.

His face blanched. "My maiden goddess, then. Beg pity on poor Sisyphus. Beg for his release, so unjustly given."

Without warning my heart went out to him. "I will," I heard myself saying.


End file.
